


Have You Tried Turning It Off and Back On Again?

by CatWingsAthena



Series: Autistic Mac Headcanon [2]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: And it's not terrible either, Autistic Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), But it's coming from a well-intentioned place, Coming out as autistic, Episode: s01e07 Can Opener, Gen, Jack is in this for like 2 seconds, POV Riley Davis, References to Dissociation, Riley's reaction is not perfect, Which a shutdown is pretty similar to actually, autistic shutdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 18:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19183699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatWingsAthena/pseuds/CatWingsAthena
Summary: Riley finds out about Mac's autism in a less-than-ideal way.The next day, they talk things through.





	Have You Tried Turning It Off and Back On Again?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody! Please note that this fic contains references to prison, dissociation, autistic shutdowns, and a popular misconception or two about autism, as well as past crappy parenting. Hope you enjoy!

Riley walked down the hall to the Phoenix foundation’s gym, hoping to clear her head.

Sorting through all those hours of prison footage had her stuck in a headspace she needed to break out of, if she was going to be of any use to the team.

And she needed to be of use to the team, if she didn’t want those nightmares to once again become her reality.

Riley took a left turn and entered the gym--only to stop short when she saw the figure slumped in the corner.

It was Mac.

He was in workout clothes, but he wasn’t sweaty, so Riley couldn’t think of any reason he’d be on the floor. That wasn’t the alarming part, though.

The alarming part was his expression.

He was staring into the middle distance, face slack, eyes glazed and glassy. Riley had seen that look on Mac once before, when he’d been badly losing a fight. But she’d seen it all the time in prison.

It was the look of someone so overwhelmed by what was happening that they’d simply disconnected from reality.

Riley hadn’t worked out yet what was happening in Mac’s brain when he did that. But the fact that it was happening here, now--when he was perfectly safe, when she couldn’t think of anything that would be overwhelming him--worried her.

Riley knew a bit about PTSD. And she knew that Mac had been through a lot before she met him. She also knew that there was something Mac and Jack weren’t telling her about what had happened in El Noche’s compound (Riley hadn’t survived two years in prison by not being able to read people). So maybe Mac was having a flashback of some sort? Whatever it was, she didn’t want to startle him. But she didn’t want anyone else to come in and find him like this, either. She had a feeling Mac would be no end of embarrassed by that. So she took a slow-and-steady approach.

“Mac?” she called, walking towards him with careful steps. 

There was no reply.

Riley crouched down next to him and waved a hand in front of his face. “Mac?”

No response. His eyes didn’t even move.

Just as Riley was about to try shaking his shoulder, Mac raised a hand and reached out toward Riley’s arm.

Riley didn’t move.

Mac tapped <I-M O-K> in Morse code on her arm.

Riley snorted. “Gonna ignore that, ‘cause you’re  _ obviously _ not okay. I’d ask you what’s going on, but that’d probably take too long in Morse, and it doesn’t seem like you can talk right now, so... is there anything I can do to help?”

<G-E-T J-A-C-K>

“I can do that.” Riley pulled out her phone and sent a text. <Mac in gym at work. Something’s wrong. He’s not talking. He asked for you.>

A moment later, her phone buzzed in reply. <eta 15 mins>

“Okay, he’s not at work right now, but he can be here in 15 minutes. Which, between you and me, he’s probably going to have to break half the traffic laws in LA to do that, but you know how he gets.” Riley smiled slightly, hoping for a smile in return. She didn’t get one.

Then, Mac raised his hand to tap Riley’s arm again. She held out her hand, palm up, to make it easier.

<W-O-U-L-D Y-O-U S-T-A-N-D O-U-T-S-I-D-E>

“Until Jack gets here, and not let anyone in?” Riley finished. 

After a moment, Mac nodded.

Riley did as instructed. Once, she had to tell someone that the gym was closed because of some malfunctioning equipment (she hoped they didn’t question her gym clothes. Luckily, they moved on without any ado).

Exactly sixteen minutes and forty-six seconds from the time he’d texted, Jack arrived, walking as quickly as he could without appearing out of place.

“He’s in there?” Jack asked, gesturing at the door, and Riley nodded.

Jack went in.

Five minutes later, Jack emerged with Mac following a step behind him. 

Together, they walked out of Riley’s line of sight.

...

Riley stared at her cell phone and wondered what to do.

She wanted--she  _ really _ wanted--to call Mac and a) make sure he was okay, b) figure out what, exactly, had been going on with him the day before. But she didn’t want to intrude, in case he was still recovering, and because straight-up asking might be rude, depending on the actual situation.

She was spared another minute of indecision when her phone rang. Caller ID said it was Mac.

She picked up. “Hey.”

“Hey, Riley. Um, about yesterday...”

“It’s cool,” said Riley. “You doing all right now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mac replied. “I just... I owe you an explanation.”

“Only if you want to,” said Riley.

“I do want to.” Silence.

Riley waited for a long moment.

Finally, Mac took a deep breath. “I’m autistic.”

Riley blinked. “Okay.”  _ Did not see that coming. _

“Is that... is that a problem for you? ‘Cause--”

“No, no, it’s not a problem, you just surprised me is all,” said Riley. “I don’t know much about autism. What can you tell me?” That was perfectly true, but it was also a deliberate strategy. Riley had sensed Mac’s worry at her initial reaction, and knew of no better way to get him back on an even keel that to send him into information-land.

“Well, I’m sure you already know the basics. Problems with social interaction and communication, repetitive behaviors, sensory issues--that’s problems dealing with certain textures, patterns, sounds, smells, stuff like that that wouldn’t bother a typical person--and, sometimes, meltdowns and/or shutdowns.” He paused. “What you saw yesterday was a shutdown.”

“Okay,” said Riley, “what’s that?”

“I know you’re already Googling it,” said Mac.

Riley paused before clicking on the first article. “You got me--but I still don’t know what they’re like for  _ you _ .”

“Well...” Mac trailed off. “It’s like my brain sort of... disconnects. And I’m not fully processing what’s around me. It’s like I turn into a zombie. Like part of my brain just... well, shuts off.”

Riley smiled. “You know what, that makes perfect sense to me.”

“How so?” Mac sounded confused.

“Well, a brain that’s processing as much stuff as yours, a few bugs are bound to creep in here and there. And what do you do with a buggy piece of tech? First thing you try--turning it off and back on again. Works like a charm.”

There was a brief silence as Mac considered her words. “Huh. I never thought of it like that.”

“Good thing you’ve got me around, then.”

“Yeah.” He paused. “Thank you.”

“Course.” Riley considered her next words, before deciding to go for it. “Do you get meltdowns too, or just shutdowns?”

There was a silence just long enough to make Riley think maybe her question had been inappropriate when Mac spoke up. “Just shutdowns, now. I used to get meltdowns when I was a kid, but, uh... my dad didn’t like that. So I learned to channel it all into shutdowns instead. He didn’t mind if I was quiet for a bit, especially if I knew it was coming and hid somewhere he couldn’t see me.”

“Yeah,” said Riley, unsure of what else to say. Somehow, she didn’t think  _ my dad was a dick too _ was likely to be helpful. 

“But anyway,” said Mac, “you wanted to know more about autism?”

“How it affects you, specifically,” Riley replied.

“Okay. Well, it means I get really obsessed with things--you’ve probably noticed that by now. I can hyperfocus, which is really helpful sometimes and really not helpful other times. I need to fidget a lot--”

“The paperclips,” said Riley, smiling.

“The paperclips. I sometimes don’t know what other people know, so I end up under- or over-explaining things. I get really uncomfortable when someone gets a fact wrong, and sometimes I compulsively correct people--I used to do that a lot more than I do now. I work best when I’m focused on one thing at a time--although I  _ can _ handle a lot of things at once, I get sloppy if I do, and a lot more likely to shut down later. Don’t worry about that, by the way, I’m not a risk in the field--I can hold off shutdowns if I have to, and they’re not common. I get around two, three a year.”

“I figured you could hold them off,” said Riley. “And this definitely isn’t a problem for me, but I gotta say I’m a little surprised. I thought autism was a lot more...” she dug around for the right word.

“Obvious?” Mac supplied.

“Yeah, that.”

Mac made a soft sound midway between a laugh, a snort and a loud exhale. “It’s a spectrum. Some people are really strongly affected, other people not so much. I was always in the not-so-much camp, but I used to be a lot more obvious than I am now. Part of it was my dad--he kinda drilled me on how to act normal. A lot of what you think are my social skills, I’ve learned by rote. As for the rest, I think I just grew up. You don’t grow out of autism, but you do grow into it. A lot of the stuff that made me obviously autistic as a kid just got easier as I grew. I’m a lot less literal now, for example. Believe it or not, I didn’t get sarcasm until I was fourteen or so.”

“ _ Really? _ ” asked Riley.

“Really,” said Mac. “You can ask Bozer, if you like.”

“Think I will,” Riley declared.

“Oh, and one more thing,” said Mac. “Bozer and Jack are the only people you know who know. Please don’t tell anyone else.”

“Director Thornton doesn’t know?”

“No, and I’d like to keep it that way. I’m worried she’d think it was dangerous to have me in the field if she found out.”

“Of course I won’t tell--but Mac, you’re one of her best agents. Maybe  _ the _ best. If she took you out of the field at this point, she’d be crazy. And Director Thornton is a lot of things, but she is not crazy.”

“I guess you’re right, but...”

“It’s your decision. You don’t want to tell her, that’s your call. One hundred percent. I’m just saying I don’t think she’d take it as badly as you’re afraid she would.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just...”

Riley chewed on her lip as she contemplated her next sentence. Then, she took a deep breath and spoke. “Your dad got you convinced you were broken, didn’t he.”

There was a pause. “Yeah. Jack’s had quite a time convincing me otherwise. I think we were three years in when he finally got me to accept that I might be able to work better if I worked  _ with _ my brain instead of against it. So I went on a research dive and came up knowing way more than I ever thought possible about non-typical brains.” Mac laughed faintly. “The whole time I was growing up, I was scared to tell Bozer. And when I finally did, he was like, yeah, and?”

Riley smiled. “Sounds about right.”

Just then, Riley’s phone buzzed with an incoming text.

She checked. Director Thornton.

“Did you just get a text?” she asked Mac.

“Yep. Director wants us in the war room ASAP.”

“See you in a few, then.”

“See you.”

Riley heard Mac hang up.

As she made her way to her car, Riley smiled slightly.

_ Thank you for trusting me _ .

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! I hope you liked it! If you did, please let me know below!
> 
> Also, shout-out to dlwtwistr and dragonflysoul for commenting on my last fic encouraging me to write more in this 'verse! You guys are the best!


End file.
